Addressed to Lukas Bondevik
by FallenWingsAreBetterThanNone
Summary: Late 19th century, young lord Lukas Bondevik agrees to be a government official at a military academy to ensure a better living for his brother, never to have guessed that he'd meet one of the most annoying and persistent people he'll ever know, Mathias Kohler. Major angst, lots of ships and big Canon divergence, AU through and through.


**I'm so sorry about my other fanfics... i haven't forgotten about them, i promise! But this has been an idea for a while and theres never enough of fanfiction about the Nordics.**

**A word of warning, this isn't everyone's cup of tea. This is set in around the end of the 19th century in England, and I'm honestly not doing any massive research about military colleges or the like, mostly just basing my knowledge of what i know myself, so if you see anything majorly wrong, don't judge, this is supposed to be historical, but not exactly historically ACCURATE.**

**There are going to be many pairings in this, although the story will be most likely about Dennor, and sufin, with the hints of Sunor and Norice. Side pairings will be the usual, hetero gerita, hetero pruaus, spamano, hongice and hunbel. Other's might come in too.**

**So yeah, this is going to** **have angst, drama and supernatural beliefs etc. Again, please be wary of this, although i don't know exactly what direction this fic will go in. The pairing will, most likely, go up to an M. **

**The idea is based off the amazing movie called the Barber of Siberia (i got the idea from it i guess...) so you should go watch that its pretty cool XD. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia ;D**

_Dear Mother..._

The scratching of ink on paper filled the cramped, roughly rocking carriage, drowning out the steady sound of pounding rain outside as the elegant hand spread the ink in words. Cleanly, easily, even with how uneven and precarious the ride was. The fingers were long and elegant, no sign of rough work at all, except for the small callouses on the fingers, an indication of someone who wrote a lot, or, more often, read in their spare time. The big, heavy paged sort of books, older than one might think.

"You know you're lying, she's anything but dear to us. We both hate her," The young teen opposite the write gave a sneer, fingers curling into the white fabric of the handkerchief in his hands. His face was still full, a sign of how young he actually was, but his thin mouth was pinched at the corners, adding to the almost weary effect caused by the small ring of darkness under his eyes. He looked much older than he acted. "I don't care, as long as she gives us the money and recommendations i need, in will indulge her in whatever she wants," The older of the Bondevik brothers raised his head, his tone of voice serious, almost emotionless. Dark blue eyes searched the younger boy's face.

A rough jerk of the carriage sent both of them reeling, the black ink over-tipping and spilling all over the letter, rivets running down to the floor of the carriage. The smaller boy's face pales, and his eyes grew wide as he fell into a coughing frenzy, dry, rough heaving of the lungs had him tear up and go red in the face, flush contrasting greatly on his pale skin. Once the effect had subsided, he lifted the handkerchief off his mouth, face mocking. "Why, how incredibly _brother-like_ of you, Lukas," He snapped, almost like a dog defending itself, fingers once again digging into the starched material, now wrinkled by his hands.

Lukas kept his face impassive, although his mouth tightened. He knew his brother hated it when people noticed, especially when they tried to do something about it, but he couldn't help but let his eyes soften a fraction. That was a privilage only the younger boy got to experience, although it seemed to be wasted on him most of the time. "This is far away from the city, It's better on you, Emil, and on me," He continued, seemingly not paying any attention to his brother's jab, it happened all too often now, even though Lukas couldn't seem to find out how he triggered it so.

"It would, if it wasn't in the middle of winter!" Emil interjected, face sinking further into a scowl. "We don't even know who the General is! I bet he's a pervert who likes little boys," His cracked voice became increasingly whiny as he proceeded, sounding more like a frustrated child than an oftenly ill tempered teenager. This pulled had a small, almost relieved smile pull at the corners of Lukas' lips as he slowly scrunched up the ruined piece of paper in his hands, dried ink staining his fingertips only a bit.

Emil had been pulled out of school a while back, it seemed to have played a cruel game on his to over come sickness, and once the cough had refused to blow over he began to be home schooled. This caused him to know almost no self-restraint when it came to conversation, the exact opposite of Lukas who, even though cold enough to deem almost unapproachable spoke well, fluent both in Norwegian as in high class English and could read both Greek and Latin, courtesy of the many hours spent studying endlessly behind a great wooden desk.

The end of the awkward, although at the same time comfortable silence brought a sudden stop of the carriage in front of a huge academy, the British army flag flapping frantically in the strong gusts of wind as the Bondevik brothers stared, undeniably skeptical at the building, and the scores of cadets lined up in front of the doors, either going through their drills or being at a formal assembly, the brothers didn't know.

"Great, there are poor men here," Emil coughed into his handkerchief, glaring out of the window.

Their boots crunched heavily in the white snow as their drill continued, the orders called i the harsh voice of Ludwig, their instructor, orders they had to follow seamlessly each day. So it wasn't a shock that when the carriage arrived, that everyone simultaneously turned their heads, watching as the two slight figures stepped out. Taller first, his hand held out for the younger, who ignored it completely, jumping out and leaving deep marks in the snow.

"Who is that? They sure seem posh," The slightly wistful voice of Tino, a small Finnish male called out as their drill master called off their positions, eyes following him when he went to greet the new comers. His only answer was a shrug from Berwald, the Swede that rarely ever opened his mouth to speak, let alone socialize with fully formulated sentences. The only one who, surprisingly, remained silent was Mathias, face curious as he watche the group approach again, a small grin spreading on his features when they came close enough to examine fully. A snapped order made him fall back in place immediately, heels clicking together in time with all the other's, eyes still focused on the two in front of him.

"Emil and Lukas Bondevik. Here on the order of General Braginski," The voice of Ludwig gave short, clipped off answers, although Mathias stopped listening after the introduction, whistling quietly to himself. A pretty name to match a pretty face, huh? The Dane wasn't fazed at all when the older of the brothers caught him staring, but instead smirked at him, turning on that handsome boy charm that got him free drinks at the pub on his leave days. But when Lukas answered him with a jerk of his head and a glare that could cut through stone his smile fell, replaced with an expression of shock. No one had ever done that before, even Tino, so obviously smitten with the tall Swede grew flustered any time Mathias pulled a flirt, and grey a dark shade of red.

They were dismissed with one order as the two new comers were led away by Ludwig to be introduced to the college, but before the other two could leave, Mathias turned to them, smirk pulling at his lips.

"Bet you I'll have that stiff, pretty rich boy beggin' for me in a month,"

**So here it is... i hoped you enjoyed it! Please tell me if you did, it means a lot, and keeps me wanting to write :) Every author loves to know their work is appreciated~**


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